The Black Elf
by Atomic15
Summary: Tamara, a dunmer born with strange physical features and advanced magical and telekinetic powers, fights to keep the only things she's ever wanted in life; love and acceptance for what she is.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

The stone wall crashed inward, pouring sun light and the body of Gregald the Strangler with it. Gregald, the leader of the Wolf's Fang bandit clan, struggled to get onto his feet but to no avail as both his legs, along with several other bones, had shattered. Calmly, Tamara Redwood, otherwise known as the Black Elf for her dark grey skin and black eyes, levitated through the hole in the wall and into the bandit lair. She stared down at the unconscious body of Gregald the Strangler.

With a motion of her hand, his body lifted into the air. "Looks like you'll be going back to prison where you belong." She said with a satisfied smirk.

As she turned in the air to leave, she came to face a shaking spear point in her face. One of the bandit grunts, probably one of their new bloods from how young he looked, stood beaten and battered. Behind him, the entire bandit camp stood burned and wrecked and all the bandits either unconscious or already ran away. _I just love my handy work_ Tamara thought.

"S-stop right there!" He said with a forced courage. "Don't…don't even think about moving!" Sweat poured down the man's face as his eyes darted back and forth looking for threats.

"You know," Tamara said with a sinister smile. "I would have thought by now you guys would understand that I don't even have to move to defeat you."

With that, she forced her telekinetic will and bent the end of the spear, forcing it further and further back until the very tip nearly touched the man's nose. He gave a scared whimper than dropped the spear and fell to his knees. Tamara floated back to the ground and patted him on the shoulder, Gregald still floating behind her unconscious. "I'd advise finding a better business than being a brigand." She said as she walked away calmly, captured bandit leader in tow, humming to herself.

Tonight she'd celebrate a little after turning in Gregald to the Whiterun prison and getting her bounty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Later that Night**

Tamara sat at the farthest seat at the Bannered Mare's bar, a mug of ale held firm in her hand and her other hand sorting through the gold coins she'd received from the guards for the bounty. Tamara smiled a weak smile. _I should be happy_, she thought. _I have gold, I have power. So why do I feel like something's missing?_ She sighed heavily and stared into her mug.

Tamara had always been alone. When she was a baby she had been left to die in a sheep pasture in Cyrodiil by who she presumes were her parents that were too embarrassed and horrified of the monster they had hoped would be a child. Tamara is a dunmer, a dark elf, though it might be hard to tell at first look. Most dunmer have a blueish gray skin with red eyes while she was cursed with skin dark and gray like iron and with pitch black eyes and long black hair that nearly came to her hips. When she was finally found in the pasture, the elderly couple that took care of the sheep were kind enough to take her in.

She grew up only knowing them, for the few times she actually went in public people became disgusted and some thought she was a daedra of some kind. Tamara lived and breathed in the woods around the farm. It didn't take long before she learned of her telekinetic abilities.

She could move things, bend things, even break things all with her mind. It started off when she was around 6 and she would notice cups moving when she focused on them. Then by age 10 she could move objects almost as big as herself. She always kept these powers secret from her foster parents. She didn't want to scare them in any way. But that didn't matter.

When Tamara had turned eleven, bandits came and raided the farm. She was small and hid inside an urn, but her foster parents weren't so lucky. The bandits slaughtered her foster parents, took the sheep and burned most of the ground and a bit of the house then took off by the time Tamara emerged from the urn.

The next few years were spent doing what had to be done to survive. Tamara mostly lived in the woods that she had spent so much time playing in because going into town meant that people might see her and chase her off. She hunted, fished and scavenged. But most importantly, she practiced her abilities. Over time she's learned more spells in destruction and illusion magic but telekinesis are still her specialty.

Now, at age 17, Tamara works as a mage for higher. She owns a house here in Whiterun, though she does what she can to stay out of public eye by mostly moving around at night. She also usually wears her dark blue mage robes with the hood up to conceal herself.

"Quite the bit of coin, eh little lady?" Said a gruff voice behind her. Tamara turned slightly to see the presence behind her.

Three men, all wearing various bits of armor and all three caring cheap rugged swords. _Mercenaries_, Tamara thought with loathing. With the recent war going on between Ulfric Stormcloak and the Empire, these jerks had become a daily nuisance.

"How about you buy us some drinks then hand the rest over as a token of gratitude for our sacrifices in the war." The man with the gruff voice, obviously the leader, said with a smug smile. "Who knows, maybe I might get to know you a little better for cooperating well."

Tamara took a slow gulp of ale. "No thanks." She said calmly.

The lead man's eyebrow twitched with frustration. In a quick motion he grabbed Tamara's hair and ripped her head back. Tamara clenched her teeth in pain.

"I don't think you heard right." The man growled. "We're going to take this gold and you're not going to do anything about it!"

"Hey!" A commanding voice called out from across the tavern. "Let her go."

"Oh yeah?" The mercenary holding Tamara shouted. All the tavern was watching them. "What are you going to do?"

Sensing that he wasn't paying as much attention to her anymore, Tamara eyed a stool nearby. Focusing her mind on it, the stool launched across the roon and slammed into the lead mercenary's head, knocking him to the ground. Twisting herself free, Tamara got to her feet. She glanced over at toward the voice that had told the men to let her go. There stood a man in tattered black robes with a black hood covering his face and a sword in his hand. With a quick snarl, the mystery man charged one of the other mercenaries and clashed swords with him. Tamara took her attention away from him and looked at the third man in front of her. With his sword drawn, the mercenary inched toward her with a grin on his stupid face. In one swift motion, Tamara stomped down on a stool leg lying by her, sending it catapulting in the air where she grabbed it and smashed it against the mercenary's bare head. The man rocked back and forth a little then toppled over unconscious.

Tamara only stood pleased for a second before looking toward her mystery helper. The cloaked man still had his sword locked with the mercenary's. With a quick grunt, the cloaked man pushed the mercenary off, kicked him in the groin, and then brought the flat of his sword against the man's chin, knocking him unconscious.

The people in the tavern stood silent after watching the fight then burst into an applause of claps and whistles. Tamara breathed heavily then smiled at her mystery savior. Before she could say anything, the man frowned then turned and ran out the tavern. Tamara gave a look of confusion but thought better to not follow

With a quick sigh, Tamara gathered up her gold and made her way out the tavern, people coming up to give her a pat on the back or a congratulations, then seeing her face and thinking twice. It didn't matter, Tamara needed to get back home and rest. Tomorrow she was heading out on a job to guard some rich nobleman from Solitude.


End file.
